


Desperado

by tehkittykat



Category: Rockman X | Mega Man X
Genre: GFY, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-13
Updated: 2011-08-13
Packaged: 2017-10-22 14:29:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/239052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tehkittykat/pseuds/tehkittykat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm just laying there, dazed, staring at the ceiling and wondering why the hell I'm not really hurting. Death's supposed to hurt, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desperado

I'm just laying there, dazed, staring at the ceiling and wondering why the hell I'm not really hurting. Death's supposed to hurt, right? Can't feel much of anything except a faint tingling where the whole right half of my body used to be. Can't move either. Suppose if I could, I'd hurt more. Probably just as well. I'd wanted to snap at X to get Cinnamon out of there after the explosion, the kid's sobbing dancing a polka on my last nerve. It wasn't 'til X's scanners picked up those first staged of my power core going critical that they finally left me, though X, being the ever-optimistic bastard that he was, almost had to be dragged out. Idiot probably thought he could save me or something. Not fucking likely when you're barely half a torso and a head.

Not happening anyway. Not this time. A bounty hunter's luck always runs dry eventually, and I knew after watching Aile get torn apart by that fucking death machine they called a ride armor that I was gonna be next. Natural order of things, I guess. All that fate bullshit. Never thought I was superstitious, but I've been wrong about shit before.

Can't fathom why I'm still thinking at all, seeing weird patterns in the uneven rivets in the ceiling like I used to see them in the paint swirls in the ceiling of my old room. Processors probably left unscathed. Just my fucking luck. Here I was sure I'd at least go quick, instead of having time to sit around waiting for my life to flash before my eyes or some other cliched bullshit like that.

It's funny.. I don't think I'd want to. I do regret stuff. Only a fucking liar says they don't regret something. It's only natural to regret the shit you couldn't help, especially when you're waiting around to die. Have to push it away from my mind-- no way I can do jack shit about any of it, and most of it I couldn't do shit about in the first place. No fucking use depressing yourself when you're gonna be shuffling the mortal coil any second.

I wonder why my old man'll do. We put whole new layers on the term "dysfunctional relationship" but I know he's gonna care. Bastard presents me with a bill for materials constructing me when I get snippy; he better fucking care. Tries to box me away like china one second, announces I'd better get off my ass and stop freeloading the next. Bastard. He better not get sentimental over this.. we both knew it'd happen eventually, especially in my line of work. 'Sides, X'll probably get sentimental for three even if he has known me only a couple weeks.

The mine's too fucking cold, or else another system's going. The uninteresting ceiling starts to tunnel on me and I can hear footsteps, heavy ones. It better not be X again or I swear I'll find a way to knock some sense into him. Can't even die in peace around that one, let alone make any zenny off the whole mess like an honest bounty hunter. How the hell did he manage to turn me into another idealist? I'm still trying to figure that out.. Watching your partner's back is one thing, but I think I managed to pass from the pragmatic to the insane somewhere along the line. No helping it now, of course.

An unfamiliar face swims into view, failing eyes warping the image as if it was water instead of air. I'm there enough to recognize the crest on the hat, and I think I'll take X coming back over this. Federation Army. Fucker. Lucian said to give 'em a wide berth, and for once I'd agreed with him for reasons beyond simple pragmatism. I think I'd been right on that one-- there's something severely not-right about the suit's expression as he studies my fatal injuries. I'd been around enough biomorphics-capable 'roids to know what lust looks like, and I know starin' at a 'roid's core ain't exactly appropriate for generatin' that sorta look.

His eyes light, and if I could I'd be squirming away. His eyes are eerie green, shadowy binary numbers flicking too fast to read behind darkened irises as he touches something in my chest. What's left of my blood runs cold, and I want desperately for at least the release of a scream at the violation. I knew those eyes; I'd seen 'em on Axl when he'd done his copy trick on Mach Jentra. Fucking suit's stealing my data, and I can't even manage a croak.

The black's creeping up faster; the drain from the copy's too much for my ruined systems. I want to knock that sick sated look from the suit's face. He can't be out to use my data for anything other than fucking with my of-late partners, and I swear X's such a trusting fool that the fucker could kill 'em all before they realized...

"Goodbye, Spider," the suit says, features and voice twisting until I'm staring into the maddened, dark eyes of my unholy twin. "I'd say it was nice knowin' you, but it wasn't."

Footsteps recede, the familiar cadence of my own gait mocking my failing ears. Black swallows my vision, the last sound in my ears that rasp of my last breath.

Motherfucker.

 

 _"My ears are burnin'... someone talkin' about me?"_

 _"I won't forgive you, Spider!"_

 

For a single moment, it's as if I'm dreaming.

Then I hear purring and feel weight on my chest. Eyes open, I'm staring up at the ceiling of my old room, the lights dim to a soft glow. Something feels strangely out of whack, like I'm getting way too much feedback on my tactiles, but just seeing that familiar ceiling keeps me still for now. I don't know how I got home, but I do know that hell doesn't include your old man's fucking cat using you for a bed. Bastard pulled off another of his miracles, and I'll probably be hearing about it for years.

I turn my head to the side, catching sight of Lucian sprawled over the chair on the other side of the room, fast asleep over a robotics journal. His glasses are on the floor with the journal, and it's strange to see his face unshielded for once. He looks younger in sleep, closer to my apparent age, though there's a faint worry line etched between his eyebrows. Almost can't believe he sat up with me. Almost. Fuck, he's still my father, even if neither of us act like it most days.

Lucian snorts softly in his sleep and his eyes open, icy blue almost luminescent in the dim lighting of the room. The familiar smirk comes back to his face as he sees me and he stands, pausing to pick up the shades and the book and place them on the chair.

"Welcome back," he says, taking a handheld scanner from the bedside table and running it over me. It's about then I notice the change in me, when I raise a hand to bat the scanner away from my face.

"Biomorphics?" I ask, distracted by the sight of a human-looking hand instead of the more familiar armored gauntlet. An armor call unit blinks sedately at me from my wrist, colored to match my armor. So he rebuilt that, too. Good to know.

"Ungrateful brat," Lucian says, though his tone puts the lie in his words. "Yes. Biomorphics. Shouldn't have expected you to be arsed to thank me or anything novel like that. Don't try to get up yet, you're only in the seventies on synchronization. Unless you'd like to fall on your ass."

"Whatever, old man. How the hell did you manage this?" I say as he perches on the edge of the bed and pulls the cat off me. She gives me an affronted look and stalks off with tail raised, probably to go investigate her food dish.

"I installed an on-demand backup system in you when you were home last, remember? It was a pain in the ass finding what was left of the crystal," Lucian says as I push to sit up. Dizziness spikes through me, but I'm used to low synch and adjust to it. "I had to smuggle it out. Apparently you're an extremely dangerous Maverick these days."

A surge of anger makes my vision darken for a moment. Federation Army motherfucker did what I thought he would. I hadn't thought I'd live through the consequences, but now... Fuck, what do you do when your damn life's in pieces? Maybe I was better off dead. Better than being cooped up in Lucian's lab with the irritable old man grumbling at me.

"With some practice, you'll be able to pass for human. I suggest you go that route rather than return to bounty hunting, unless you like having Hunters out to kill you," Lucian says, not noticing my silence. After tapping a few things into the handheld he puts it away and rises.

"Fuck off, old man," I say, snorting a bit. "This gives me a bit of license to be bad.. Might as well earn being Maverick."

It's true too, to an extent. There are a lot of 'roids and even a few human groups willing to pay out a lot of zenny for jobs that would quickly land a bounty hunter on the Maverick list. Hell, that class of deal had been what eventually brought down Dynamo. Lucian's scowl in my face cuts those thoughts short, and for once I can't repress a shudder at his expression. I hate when he gives me that fucking Methuselah look... the sheer weight of his gaze makes me wanna squirm like I'd just been activated and I didn't know any better.

"Don't. You go down that road, you become everything they say you are," Lucian says, and for a change I know he's telling it straight. Don't ask how I know.. but sometimes.. sometimes I think that there's parts of my creator that go way beyond the scientist I know.

"What the hell difference does it make?" I ask, rolling to lay in bed just to break that gaze.

"You'd be surprised. Get some rest, you need it," Lucian says, and I know the damn conversation's over. Bastard'll probably lock me in until he's convinced I won't run off and do anything he thinks is foolish. Like he has to worry.. He's human. I let him go, though, 'cause I do owe him one for rebuilding me and another one for the upgrade.

There's a click of a light switch and the room's plunged into typical darkness, only the ambient light from the hall seeping in. I lie awake, listening to the familiar sound of Lucian walking off, probably to the lab area to putter around with something. Not too bad for a dead man, I guess. Could always be fucking worse. Doesn't help that I can tell from the lightheadedness that I'll probably be waiting for full synch longer than usual, which means I'll be stuck in bed for a couple more days. Knowing how bullheaded Lucian is, he'll probably find a way to talk me out of taking those plum jobs, even though that dewy-eyed idealist bit of me's complaining already.

Maybe when I'm on my feet again I'll look up X. He deserves another round for old time's sake, especially for reintroducing me to my conscience. Damn fool's as bad as my old man sometimes.


End file.
